by CM Foss
“Well, maybe you’ve never had a good reason. But you do now.”
I hid my face in my hands. “I know. I just, you know… don’t know.”
“Okay,” she said softly. “I’ll help, if you’ll let me. I’ll go with you whenever you want. In the meantime, how are you gonna let this guy know?”
I lifted my face and dried my eyes. “I don’t know that either.”
“You have to let him know.” She nodded.
“And I would. But… all I know is that he’s a doctor and his name is Patrick. He was moving to New York, he drives a douchy car, wears loafers, and has a magical tongue.”
“And penis,” she said pointedly.
“Clearly.” I chuckled, grateful for her humor as my earlier panic subsided and my heart rate returned to normal.
“What happens when we find him?” she asked quietly.
I chewed on my lower lip for a bit. “I don’t know. I guess I call him.”
“You should go see him.”
I shook my head. “In my spare time? I have back-to-back reservations for the next two months, at least.”
“Well, you’re gonna have to slow down sometime.”
“Yeah, well, tell that to the crazy people showing up each week, looking to change their lives.”
Emily looked at me sympathetically for a long minute before standing suddenly.
“Okay, well, I’m gonna go home and start researching. No one’s safe online. You okay? For real? You know it’s going to be all right, don’t you?”
I nodded and smiled weakly. “Thanks, Em.”
Chapter 12
Patrick
Me: Should I contact her first?
Lissa: Yes. Duh.
Me: I don’t think I should.
Lissa: Then why did you ask?
Me: I was hoping you were on the same page as me.
Lissa: I’m not.
Me: I think she’d like the surprise.
Lissa: I bet not.
Me: It’s romantic.
Lissa: Not really.
Me: If I tell her, she may try to talk me out of coming.
Lissa: Sigh…
Me: She did tell me not to contact her.
Lissa: Well… I mean… going to see her is pretty much the most aggressive form of contact.
Me: It’s business. Not my fault. I have to go. Plus she said no phone or e-mail. She didn’t say no visiting.
Lissa: Stop thinking with your penis.
Me: Ugh. That’s disgusting. I can’t believe you just said that to me.
Lissa: #justsayin
Me: Did you just hashtag a text?
Lissa: #yesIdid
Me: You’ve just completely negated anything intelligent you’ve ever said.
Lissa: #dontbeadick
Ivy
“Is this him?” Emily was bouncing up and down on my couch with excitement, pointing at the screen of my laptop. “He’s hot. He’s the first hot one we’ve found.”
I sighed and shuffled over to sit next to her. She was way more into this than I was. I was halfway hoping we never found him.
But when I looked at the computer, there he was. Dr. Patrick Thompson. In a tux. Looking dreamy, sexy, and citified. Emily looked at me with raised eyebrows. I nodded and she squealed, making me cringe.
“Damn, Ivy. You do know how to do the one-night stand.”
I rolled my eyes and leaned forward to click for more pictures. A glutton for punishment, I guess. There was a headshot of him in his lab coat, a stethoscope around his neck. That was pretty hot. There were a few shots of him in his tux at what must have been the same party. In most of the pictures, he was standing next to an older gentleman. In the final picture, he was standing close to a stunning blonde, who was dripping in sparkles and cleavage. His arm was behind her, so I assumed he was touching her, and it made my already unsteady stomach roil. She was perfectly posed for the picture in that effortless way that some girls have but that I did not. My only consolation was that Patrick’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.
I could feel Emily studying me, and I turned to her.
“Well,” I said.
“I mean we don’t know what that means.” She held her hands in the air.
“Ugh.” I stood quickly and paced across the room.
“They could just be friends.”
“I don’t think even I could be friends with someone that hot.”
“That’s kind of true. If I was a lesbian, I’d be all over that.”
“And Patrick is, more or less, a lesbian.”
“Truth.”
I sighed and flopped back down on the couch.
“I really wish I hadn’t seen that.”
“You still have to tell him.”
“I know.” I groaned. “And I will. Just… do I have to right now? Maybe I should wait until I’m a little further along.”
“So you want to wait until you’re more pregnant?”
I glared at her. “Speaking of waiting, have you talked to Matt?”
“What? No. We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you.”
“We’ve talked me out. It’s your turn.”
She sighed and huffed. “No, I haven’t.”
“He goes to the pub pretty much daily to see you.”
“Well, he barely talks to me. He acts like an older brother.”
“If I had an older brother, I would be creeped the fuck out if he looked at me like Matt looks at you.”
“We’ve just known each other for a long time. He’s protective.”
“But you like him. You like him like him. He makes you happy in the pants. I can tell.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “He does not. Not on purpose anyway.”
I nodded. “UVT.”
“What the what?” She shook her curls in exasperation.
“Unintentional vaginal twerking. It’s a thing.”
“That is not a thing.”
“Is too. And he makes it happen for you. It’s okay. You can’t control it.” I patted her knee. Heckling her was making me feel infinitely better about myself.
She rolled her eyes. “It is not UVT. It’s just a stupid crush. I’ve had a stupid crush on him since we were kids. Stupid crushes are meant to stay buried deep inside.”
“Where’s the fun in that? And he totally has a crush on you too.”
“No. He has a crush on you.”
I shook my head. “No, he doesn’t. At least not anymore. It was just a silly crush anyway, because I kept turning him down.”
“How is silly different than stupid?”
“Silly isn’t serious. Stupid is the word you use when the feelings are real. Because nothing makes you feel stupider than a real crush.”
She looked at me with pursed lips and a raised eyebrow. “This was an epic change of subject, by the way.”
“Thank you.” I nodded.
“So are you gonna call Patrick?”
“Later.”
Chapter 13
Patrick
Three weeks later, I took a cab reeking of week-old falafel to La Guardia. Not only did it make me feel dirty and somewhat violated, but I was also bitter. I would have taken the rare opportunity to drive my own car, but I had ended up selling it to the parking lot attendant. He paid cash, so I was spot-on about him making more money than me. I didn’t ask how. The cab was a dismal reminder.
I’d tapped my foot and my fingers restlessly all the way through the crowds, waiting in line for security. I’m surprised I wasn’t pulled into one of the mysterious back rooms. Each step was bringing me closer to Ivy, the stupid male decision to surprise her filling me with nerves. I couldn�
��t decide if I wanted to run and get to her or turn and run in the other direction. Neither option was truly available anyway.
I blew out a breath as I finally sat down at my gate. I was the first of our party to arrive, so I pulled out my phone to send texts to my family to pass the time. I hadn’t talked to anyone in way too long and felt the need to catch up. Of course no one responded.
I stiffened sharply when a coffee was suddenly thrust over my shoulder. I looked over to see Stacy standing with another one of her signature, coy smiles.
“Morning, doctor.”
“Hi.” I cautiously took the cup from her hand with a tight-lipped smile. “What are you doing here?”
“Well.” She shrugged. “We were booked for five people, and Dr. Kirk couldn’t make it. There aren’t any refunds, so Bob told me to come along. His wife wasn’t interested.”
“Oh.” I had to consciously relax my grip on my coffee to keep from crushing it. “Great.”
I nodded awkwardly, allowing the conversation to fall flat. Over the past few weeks of surprise and inconvenient office visits, I found that the less I encouraged Stacy, the better. Short of being outright rude and telling her that even the thought of her fake tits in my face one more time made me want to hurl, I gave clipped answers and tried to never look her in the eyes. She was like Medusa. One peek and you’re fucked.
“I just got you a black coffee. That all right? I can go get you something else.”
“Black’s great.” I took an obligatory sip, but honestly, I’d already had enough caffeine and I wasn’t looking for anything to make me more jittery. I could almost feel the TSA checking me out.
“I think this trip will be so great for the practice, don’t you?” She moved the carry-on I’d placed on the seat beside me as a buffer and sat close, crossing her legs in my direction. Her skirt rode up her thigh, and she tugged it down ineffectively. It took everything in me not to roll my eyes. “It’s a way for you to all get to know each other outside your comfort zones and to unwind. Brilliant.”
She chattered on about her brilliance, and I let her, nodding in the appropriate places, completely disinterested, even going so far as to scroll through my phone. If I ever caught my niece throwing herself at a dude checking his phone, I’d lock her in a convent immediately. And if my nephews pulled this shit, I’d kick their asses even faster.
Fortunately, before long, Bob and two other colleagues, Roger and Gillian, joined us, much to my relief. I quickly engaged Gillian in conversation. She was a few years older than me, happily and securely married with a baby on the way. Very safe. Plus she was simply nice, which was refreshing.
When it came time to board the plane, I was relieved once more to find that she was seated next to me. Until Stacy shouldered between us, one boob actually poking me in the arm.
“Hey, Gillian, would you be more comfortable in my seat? It’s toward the back of the plane, so it’s closer to the bathroom. I’d be happy to trade.”
Gillian blinked a few times rapidly and bit her lip to stifle her laugh. “Ummm…,” she began.
“Actually, Stacy, Gillian and I have a very important case we need to discuss, and I’d like to get it over with before we officially start our trip. So it’s actually perfect for us to sit together.” I turned to Gillian. “If that’s all right with you?”
Her eyes cut to me briefly and knowingly. “Yeah, that would be great. But thanks for the offer, Stacy.”
Stacy’s face fell for a moment but she recovered quickly, like she always did. She always seemed to bounce back like a bad penny.
We all took our appropriate places in line as we were herded like cattle. Gillian smiled over at me.
“You have a story to tell me?” she asked, picking some imaginary lint off her sweater.
I chuckled and groaned slightly, rubbing my hand over my face and pinching the bridge of my nose. “I’ll tell you a hell of a story on the plane if you promise to protect me from that this weekend.” I nodded back over my shoulder at Stacy.
She snorted softly. “It better be good.”
We settled into our seats, and after ordering a million-dollar gin and tonic for breakfast, which Gillian dramatically rolled her eyes at, I told her the shareable details of my history at The Green House.
Her eyes were wide as she listened to the entire story, and she was silent when I finished.
“And you haven’t talked to her since?”
“Nope.” I shook my head and took a long sip through my straw. “She didn’t want any contact.”
“So she has no idea you’re about to show up as a guest?”
“Uh, no.”
She just nodded slowly.
“That’s bad, right?”
She shrugged.
“I didn’t know what else to do.” I held up my hands as my voice rose.
“Well”—she grabbed my drink and touched her lips to it, sighing happily—“all I can say is that I was originally annoyed about this stupid trip that makes my only break from work a frigging work function.”
“And now?” I asked.
“Now I’m genuinely excited.” She winked at me and grinned.
Ivy
“Is dinner all set?” I called to Connie as I tromped through the back door.
“Everything is prepped and ready to cook. Emily’s had the group out on a property tour this whole time. I haven’t even seen ’em.”
I blew out a breath. “That’s great. She’s a lifesaver.”
I’d had to run to town for some last-minute shipments I’d forgotten. Pregnancy brain was real and urgent. So Emily saved the day by agreeing to distract my guests until I could get back.
I entered the kitchen to wash my hands and throw an apron on. Connie and I worked side by side, swirling pans and stirring pots. Emily would bring everyone inside in just a few minutes and seat them in the dining room, so supper needed to be completely ready to serve when they arrived.
The table was set, water was poured, and the gazpacho was chilled and ready to ladle into bowls. As soon as I heard the back door swing open and footsteps tracking in, I counted to ten and carried the bowl of soup in. The guests were seated around the oval dining table, probably waiting for their first foray into farm to table. I walked in and set the bowl in the center.
Wiping my hands on my apron, I stood back to introduce myself. “Hello, everyone. I’m Ivy. I trust you had a great tour with Emily. Tomorrow will begin the real work around here, so tonight I hope you enjoy the fruits from the farm and relax.”
Everyone seated turned their heads to me, and in a practiced move, I made sure to meet the eyes of every one. My pleasant smile continued around the table. Until him. Holy shitballs. Him.
Our gazes met. And held. We were stuck. He was amused.
He was fucking amused?
My jaw was hanging open, and I quickly snapped it shut. His smile faded, and his eyebrows drew together in confusion. Clearly, he’d expected a different moment. The fact that he was expecting something was enough to set me off. For fuck’s sake! He knew he was coming here. He knew it and didn’t warn me. I mean, I know I said I didn’t want him calling me, but probably these circumstances would have warranted an e-mail or something. I had a fucking website.
I opened my mouth and closed it again. Briefly, I squeezed my eyes shut and cleared my throat. Once more or less composed, outwardly anyway, I went around the table and shook hands, trying to catch everyone’s names. When I reached Patrick, he grasped my hand firmly and a sizzle shot up my arm and down my spine.
I was at a loss. Should I let on that we knew each other? I couldn’t read him, but he certainly hadn’t swept me into his arms or anything even remotely romantic. My eyes darted to the women sitting on either side of him. One was Miss Barbie Perfect from the photo we’d foun
d online, and the other was cute and obviously pregnant. My heart started to race at the thought that either one of them was attached to the man between them. I oddly wasn’t sure which was worse, the pregnant one or the glittery one. Obviously the pregnant one. Totally that would be worse.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I said, pointedly looking into his eyes.
His gaze bored into mine, searching. For what, I wasn’t sure. And I didn’t stick around to find out. Emily rescued me by starting to serve the soup. I nodded to the small crowd and left the room, panting.
Out in the hall, I leaned against the wall, trying to calm my racing heart and my rapid breath. Emily joined me quickly, her words coming out in a whispered rush.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I wanted to warn you, but I didn’t want to pull out my phone while they were around. I didn’t know what to do.”
I shook my head furiously, almost making myself dizzy. “I just… I’m not ready for this. What do I do?”
She shrugged and grimaced. “Uh, this is uncharted waters for me.”
“Thanks,” I deadpanned. “Okay… the women. Is he with them? Please tell me that’s not his pregnant wife or girlfriend. I can’t handle that. I’d have to go on a reality show, and I’m just not cut out for that kind of drama.”
She shook her head, curls springing free and bouncing around. “No. The pregnant one, Gillian, is married. To someone else.” I released my breath. “Internet girl… it’s hard to say. She never left his side, but he didn’t seem very affectionate toward her. He seemed like he was trying to avoid her. And they aren’t staying in the same room.”
I nodded again, feeling a modicum of relief. “Okay.”
“So?” she prodded.
“So what?”
“What are you going to do?” Her voice was exasperated.